Jinxed To Begin With?
by Elizabeth Bartlett
Summary: All of the commanders of the Prometheus or Oddessy seem to end up dead. Is the job jinxed? R&R!


A/N: This is just a silly one-shot that I got the idea for after watching 'Company of Theives' and realizing that all the commanders of the X-303's seem to have a short life span (Caldwell excluded but I deal with that). Spoilers for 'Company of Theives', 'Ethon', and 'Critical Mass'. I don't own anything related to SG-1/SGA; the only thing I own are the three OCs created for this fic. Read and Review!

The men's locker room in the SGC was abnormally full. Two teams had just come back from off-world missions while another team was changing to go out into the field. Lockers slammed shut or were opened and there was the usual locker room humor and towel snapping; Cameron Mitchell had been overheard saying that it reminded him of when he was in high school.

Major Charles Cox sighed and rubbed the mirror, which had fogged up because of all the steam from the showers, with his spare towel. It had been a long month; the _Odyssey_ had gotten captured by the Lucien Alliance and the commander, Emerson, had gotten himself killed in the process. So now the _Odyssey_ was without a commander and word around Peterson Air Base and the SGC was that they were looking for a replacement.

Who it would be people had no idea, supposedly the SGC was going to release a list of likely replacements and then narrow it down from that depending who was interested or not.

"Hey Cox, you done yet?" Lieutenant Colonel Vic Anderson shouted as he made his way towards the younger man. "I didn't think that it took that long to shave one hair off."

"Hahaha, Anderson." Charles retorted while facing the mirror and starting to glide the razor over his face. "You're funny like a crutch."

"Glad to know it." Vic said, moving towards the sink opposite of Cox. Setting his own towel across his bare shoulder, he turned on the water and began to lather up his own face.

The two men stood in silence until Cox's teammate, Taylor Johnson, walked into the locker room and said, "Hey Chuck...they just posted the list for the new commander job."

Charles turned around while raising an eyebrow. "The one for the _Odyssey_?"

"Yea...and guess who's on it." Taylor said, making his way towards the two men.

"Who?"

"You are."

Chuck snorted in disbelief, "Yea right, I haven't been in a plane or a F302 in a few years so why would they want me?"

Taylor just grinned and said, "Maybe because of your diplomatic skills."

"What diplomatic skills?" Anderson asked, washing off his razor. "Chuck being diplomatic is telling the locals that he's going to shoot them instead of just doing it."

Taylor laughed while Chuck snapped his towel at Anderson who barely dodged it. "So who's on the list?" Anderson asked.

"Who cares?" Taylor said, shrugging his shoulders. "He'll be dead in a few months anyways."

"Why'd you say that?" Chuck asked after drying his face with his towel.

"Think about it; the job's cursed."

"How so?" Anderson asked as he turned off the water.

Taylor explained as the three men walked towards their lockers, which were in the same row, "All the commanders of the X-303's can't seem to stay alive very long. Pendergast was the first one to bite the dust when _Prometheus_ blew up, then the guy after him got killed in that electrical short while _Odyssey_ was on a test run, and now Emerson's the latest in the line to bite the dust. Who ever gets picked for this one is just going to buy the farm in a few months."

Anderson and Cox were silent, thinking about what Johnson had just pointed out. "He's got a point." Chuck conceded as he pulled out a black shirt and pulled it over his head.

"Not entirely." Anderson said, lacing up his boots.

"I think it's pretty clear."

"What about Colonel Caldwell? He commands the _Daedalus_ and he's still alive."

"It's a different version of the X-303 so it doesn't count." Taylor explained.

"He was taken as a host by the Gou'ald. So in a way something _did_ happen to him." Chuck offered up.

"Whatever." Anderson said, closing his locker with a 'clang'. "I think that we can all agree that the job of commanding a space ship for the SGC is jinxed."

"And that there's not enough hazard pay to make me want to take the job even if I _was_ on the list." Chuck said as they walked out into the hallway.

"I agree with that."


End file.
